


Help Me Smoke This One

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Eating, Felching, M/M, Pining, Riding, Scenting, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is stupid." Derek said to his cigarette. "I don't want to smell like smoke." and that was a lie so he amended, "I only want to smell like smoke for a stupid reason that doesn't make any sense."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help Me Smoke This One

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be one or two thousand words and take me three days to write and get posted. Fuck me. How did this become so long?
> 
> Title from an Otis Redding song, "Cigarettes and Coffee"

Derek didn't go to the Jungle often. He'd only been a regrettable handful of times. Every now and then, he'd get it into his head that easy sex would make him feel better - which it wouldn't. He could never seem to remember in the long term that it would only make him feel like shit. He suspected this was because he was an idiot. 

But, it was one of his infrequent nights of this particular brand of idiocy and he'd fucked some barely legal Art Major, in mascara and tight pants, who had wanted to _kiss_ him again and again and again with his purposefully familiar, full, pink mouth that had tasted like ash. It wasn't shocking, because Derek could have smelled the boy's three packs a day even without super senses. What it really was was unpleasant. He didn't want to kiss someone he didn't know, and he wanted their mouth to taste like mouth if he did, but Derek knew that other people's sexual needs should always come before his own.

The sex was nice and the pretty, lithe Art Major was complimentary - but in that way that made Derek nauseous. Luckily, the boy hadn't been looking for anything but a quick fuck in a dirty bathroom, and Derek got to leave first, the boy claiming that he'd need a second to stop shaking after _that_. He'd said it with a wink that Derek didn't see because he was already rushing out of the restroom and the bar and to the parking lot. 

Coming in, two other boys arm-linked in front of him, was someone Derek didn't want to see going into a place where he'd just fucked someone. He certainly didn't want him to see Derek coming out from a place like that.

Stiles's eyes were big and bright in the dark. His mouth was open, of course, but Derek didn't look at it because he didn't deserve to. He was going to hurry by and then deny the encounter should it be brought up, but Stiles said, " _Derek?_ " like he was beyond shocked, in a sort of breathless, amazed way that, if louder, Derek would have felt proud to make him say. As it was, he just felt more guilty and ducked his head to push past.

Stiles caught his arm - or his jacket to be more exact, but Derek could still feel the warmth of his palm and feel how long his fingers were. 

He tried to say something, _shut the fuck up, what the fuck do you think you're doing here?, fucking let go,_ but nothing came out. Stiles took a step closer. His friends before them had stopped, looking back, whispering, laughing. 

Stiles looked like he wanted to say something too until he stepped into Derek's space and inhaled and -

And Derek didn't know what. 

The boy froze. There was a spike in his scent, and that wasn't surprising in itself - Stiles often gave off of waves of arousal when Derek was close. Derek wasn't blind, aurally speaking - but this was something completely different. It was a flash of warmth and a softening of the face and a completely lost, vulnerable look.

Neither of them said anything until Stiles murmured, "My mom used to smoke."

And the world, which Derek hadn't noticed to be muted, came crashing back and he could hear the music from the club and the streets and they almost covered up Stiles's heartbeat, which was still slow and calm until he realized he'd been staring for so long and became embarrassed. 

Stiles let go but didn't move. Derek tried to swallow, working his throat. He licked his lips and opened his mouth, watching Stiles's amber eyes flit down to catch the movement. 

"I didn't know you smoked." Stiles said finally. Derek didn't respond and Stiles turned, even more embarrassed, and left with his friends, who cackled at him like the exchange was the funniest thing they'd ever seen.

"I don't." Derek finally managed out, but Stiles was already at the door and not looking back. 

He went inside, but his warm scent, and his firm hands, and his heartbeat stayed. Derek kept all of this with him until he got home, and then purged them from his system like he always did.

* * *

Derek had never smoked. He liked most things that didn't involve fire, for _reasons_. Of course, he could understand the difference, and he'd never had a problem with people smoking around him - or, at least, smoking wasn't what made him uncomfortable when people were around him. But it didn't interest him. It couldn't do anything for him, good or bad. 

Stiles doesn't ask him to or anything. Stiles doesn't even mention it outside of one, "I didn't know you went to the Jungle. Do you know," so and so. Derek hadn't and Stiles had faded off, blushing and coughing to clear his throat and change the subject to something more important. 

So, really, it didn't make much sense. It was just that Derek had started to think, which was often bad because _thinking_ generally meant _dwelling_ , that he wanted Stiles to touch him like that again, even if just on the arm, and look at Derek with longing, even if it wasn't Derek he really wanted. Mostly, although it was a subconscious desire that Derek wasn't fully aware of, he wanted Stiles to be reminded of family when he looked at him. 

So, a week later, he found himself at a gas station a few towns over and buying a pack of cigarettes. He didn't know what kind was best, because he knew relatively nothing about this, so he bought the pack that was priced exactly in the middle.

He expected judgement. He thought the cashier might give him a knowing look or a sermon about lung cancer. He thought they might say, "Hey, aren't you Derek Hale? Didn't your family burn? Guess you want to blacken up and char like they did, huh?" He was reaching a frantic _I don't know why I'm doing this this is so stupid_ when the cashier rung him up.

She didn't say anything besides the total, and she didn't even look at him. In all honesty, she looked even more tired than Derek felt, and so he told her to have a nice day before she said it to him. 

He smoked his first cigarette in his car with the radio on quietly and the window cracked just enough to flick ash out. It was all much easier to do than he had thought, even if he wasn't quite sure what about lighting up and inhaling he had thought would be so difficult. Taking a drag, he wondered if they still made lighters that heated up in your car port, and then realized that such an investment would have meant that this, whatever _this_ was, was something he did now. Which it wasn't.

"This is stupid." Derek said to his cigarette. "I don't want to smell like smoke." and that was a lie so he amended, "I only want to smell like smoke for a stupid reason that doesn't make any sense."

The cigarette didn't respond, so he brought it to his mouth again and then flicked ash out the window and turned up the radio.

* * *

Derek wasn't exactly sure why they met at his apartment. He wasn't the Alpha, but Scott's mom's night off was Wednesday, and, _no_ , they _couldn't_ do Thursday, and Stiles's dad had said they couldn't do it there, and no one really knew where Peter lived. So it had fallen into his lap. Pack meetings were are Derek's place, whether he liked it or not.

Stiles walked into Derek's apartment for a "Pre-Pack Meeting Pow Wow." The phrase was Stiles's, and Derek was pretty sure they only did this so Stiles could say it. After all, why would Stiles want to spend so much extra time with Derek, regardless of how physically attracted he might have been to the man. Derek didn't delude himself. He knew Stiles couldn't really stand him personally.

He froze once he was in scent range. Derek waited. He waited for Stiles to get that soft, lost expression. He wanted to be looked at by the boy once more, even if only for a second. But, Stiles seemed to shake himself out of it and put on a casual face, saying, "Hey," like it was nothing at all. 

Derek's hopes fell and he said, "Hey," back in a gruff manner. Stiles didn't comment on it, because it wasn't really out of character, and set his stuff down to start going over preliminary matters.

No one mentioned it at the meeting, except Peter, who remarked, "You smell like a dive bar, Derek. A dive bar from the sixties. It's abhorrent." 

"Oh, the sixties, huh?" Stiles repeated. "Do you remember them well?"

To which, Peter had laughed and opened his mouth, ready to respond. Derek had growled at them to _focus_. Stiles had huffed, obviously not feeling as playful as Peter, who had perfected faking cheerful compliance.

Afterwards, when the Pack left, Stiles was still there, like always, quietly washing dishes while Derek packed leftovers into the Tupperware someone had given him for Christmas last year.

"If you wanna light up, I don't mind." Stiles said, casually, but there was some strain in his body, a quirk in his heart beat that seemed out of place. It wasn't a lie, but it was definitely off.

"No." Derek refused.

"Okay." Stiles nodded quickly. "But I don't mind it. The smell. So, it won't bother me if you want to." 

"I don't."

Stiles nodded again. "Okay." and he almost sounded disappointed, but maybe Derek had heard him wrong - which was nearly impossible at this point because Derek had studied Stiles's tonal behavior intensely to better differentiate friendly sarcasm from defensive sarcasm, and he knew what disappointment, or at least sorrow, smelled like as he had scented it on the boy so many times, and the way those broad shoulders slumped, however minutely, was never lost on him. But, he was probably just imaging any sort of emotion Stiles might seem to be giving off.

Derek suddenly felt more than angry - at whom he wasn't sure. It didn't seem right for the boy to be there if he didn't want Derek back. He knew it was a tall order, and not something he could ever accept from someone as good as Stiles, but it seemed rude for him to still be there when Derek so obviously -

"Why are you even here?" he snapped finally at he boy's back.

Hands in the sink, not turning, Stiles huffed, "Maybe because I'm _cleaning_ , you jackass. Maybe, if I don't, you won't, because you're shit at taking care of yourself and you'll let it sit for too long and you'll get fucking mice or something. And I'm not sharing my seat with Stuart Little."

"I can take care of myself. I don't need help from you." he grouched and Stiles finally looked at him, drying his hands off with a dirty dishtowel. He didn't look mad, exactly, and that unnerved Derek more than he'd ever admit. He looked raw, if anything. Hurt. 

"Am I bothering you that much? Do you really hate having me around? Because, I thought maybe - " Derek watched him cut himself off by biting his lip. He opened his mouth to say something in return, something grudgingly apologetic, but Stiles put a hand up, throwing the dish towel on the counter. "Whatever, Derek. I'll see you next week. Sorry to be a pest." 

Derek didn't catch his arm or say _wait stop_ like he wanted. He didn't apologize or make a joke, or even snark a comment back, which would have at least made this seem less tense. He just stood there, silently, as Stiles left, slamming the door.

He didn't know why, but he smoked a cigarette over the sink, standing where Stiles had, free hand lightly toying with the dishrag, raining ash over his half-washed pots and plates. He thought about how much of an idiot he was, but didn't acknowledge it aloud, because he couldn't bear to. He just stood silent, breathing in smoke and the lingering, now-fading presence of the boy.

Somehow, in his quiet, he missed the boy's re-approaching of his apartment and was startled when the door was wrenched open, Stiles already saying: "Whoops. Forgot my phone and keys. Sorry to bother you while you're - Oh."

Derek had panicked, not knowing how to get rid of the cigarette. He looked for something to snub it out in and didn't have any ashtrays - because that would have acknowledged that this was a thing he was doing - and had, as Stiles entered the kitchen, dropped it into the sink full of water. 

Stiles stared at him. Derek stared back, embarrassment creeping over him. The longer they were silent, the more ridiculous he knew himself to be, because there was a bowl a foot away, and the floor, and he didn't actually give a shit about his counter-tops. He just ended up looking like an asshole, _again_.

"You don't - " Stiles started, beginning softly and then turning mad. "Don't act so fucking guilty about it. It's your fucking place. _I'm_ intruding. You didn't have to stop. You're not doing anything wrong."

"But - " 

"Fucking Christ, Derek. What is the deal? I told you I don't mind and you say you don't _want_ to but I leave and you _immediately_ \- " he stopped talking abruptly. Something like realization crossed his face. "Oh." he frowned, heat creeping over his cheeks, and the sound of his voice made Derek feel even more ashamed of his actions. "Oh. It's me. I'm... I'm making you uncomfortable." He ran a hand through his hair, shifting his weight. "Oh my God, I am, aren't I? I thought I was getting better at reading people when it comes to this; that you liked - But, that's dumb, isn't it? Oh my God, this is awful, just let me get my stuff and I'll go." 

Derek panicked, "No, I - " as he frantically tried to think, unable to find the words, so he just strangled out, "Second-hand smoke." 

Stiles gaped at him and then snorted humorlessly, ducking his head to try and hide the dark pink of his cheeks. "God, _wow_. You don't have to be a dick." His voice shook which seemed to embarrass him even more. He took a step towards the sink where his phone and keys were sitting on the counter, right behind Derek, but the man didn't budge, desperately searching for something to say. "Look, this is a lot worse for me, believe me. If you could just - " and Stiles made some vague gesture, and Derek still didn't move.

"Stiles..."

The boy sighed. "I'm trying to get out of your hair, but - "

"Stop." and Derek pushed off the counter. "Just for a second." He came to stand close to Stiles and watched how the boy took in his scent, how his lips pressed together in upset. Without thinking, Derek raised a hand to touch him there, on the corner of his mouth, wanting to the smooth the displeasure away. 

Sure enough, Stiles's mouth fell open and he tilted his face up, getting that raw, warm look again. "Are you making fun of me?" he breathed out. 

"No." Derek said, and reveled in the slow way Stiles opened and closed his eyes, and his jackrabbit heart, and how his tongue brushed Derek's thumb when he wet his lips. 

"You..." Stiles started, and Derek shifted his hand so his palm was resting against the boy's cheek, fingers cupping the boy's jaw. Stiles leaned into the touch, "You smell so good. I don't know why or when you started - but it's not fair." Stiles said, eyes suddenly wide, voice accusing. "You can't just be attractive and consistently noble and almost seem to be into me sometimes and then smell like - How am I supposed to react? You always smelled fine before, but now you smell like you - which as previously stated, is a scent I don't dislike - and - And _home_." Stiles voice bit off and he sounded too sad, so Derek framed his face with his other hand and shushed him. 

"I'm sorry." he murmured. "I wanted you to like me. Because I didn't think you did. Not - Not outside of - Not the way I - " He sighed, frustrated, unable to find the right words. "I just wanted you to look at me like you like you did that one time. At the club. It was... It was like you liked me and I wanted to see that again." 

"I did. I do. Like you, I mean." Stiles assured him, eyes bright and soft. His own fingers came up to brush the back of Derek's hands. "How did you miss that? Isaac used to tell me that I looked so desperate around you, he was surprised I didn't die from thirst. Seriously, I couldn't keep it from anyone." And he looked so young there that Derek started to feel guilty because he shouldn't have this. He'd done all of this just so he could _pretend_ not so he could _have_. He pulled his hands back and looked away, but not quick enough to miss the hurt and confusion on the boy's face.

"Except me." Derek said, stepping back. "Which is for the best. I'll stop smoking. It was stupid anyway. You can - "

" _What?_ " Stiles snapped. "Excuse me? Did I just hear you about to tell me what to do?" 

"Stiles, you're seventeen. You don't know - "

And suddenly Stiles was crowding him, in his space, his frame slotting against Derek's, his scent and the sound of his heart and his heat taking over all of Derek's senses. His hand was on Derek's waist, pressing warm, fingers curling into his shirt.

"I don't think that's really a problem." Stiles hushed, and, besides the lowered tone, he seemed unaffected, not attempting seduction but achieving it. "You've given the bite to enough teenagers that I don't think age means much to you at all." Which was a lie, and Derek opened his mouth to say so, so Stiles hurried on. "And, I'm not even asking for something as life-changing as the removal of my human-status. I just want you to touch me."

Derek was frozen still and Stiles's free hand reached for his to guide it up. Derek's fingers brushed his cheek and ear and Stiles, eyes closing, turned to lean into the touch he had created. "Is it that bad?" Stiles murmured, peeking up at the man's face, which was stuck in a sort of reverent, awe-struck disbelief. 

"No." he mumbled out.

"This would be a good time to kiss me." Stiles cued him in. Derek, other hand curling around Stiles's back to hold him close, dipped down, just to brush. Stiles's eyes were shut lightly and Derek was forgetting how to breathe and think and kiss until Stile's opened his mouth a little more to him and, in a moment, let Derek inside.

It was easy, kissing him like this, because Stiles smelled good like he always did, and felt warm and steady, like he wasn't going to leave, and tasted like mouth. 

"You smell _really_ good." Stiles told him, breaking away. He was still so near though, his eyes half-lidded and dark. And, before Derek could say anything in response, Stiles was leaning forward, nosing just under his jaw, pressing a kiss below his ear. It was only when he was laving on long stripe up the man's neck that Derek finally broke, whining, eyes screwing shut, hands coming to brace on Stiles's forearms.

"You taste good too." Stiles murmured, pulling back a little to take in the man's kiss-red lips and his hazy, glowing blue eyes and stunned expression. Stiles beamed, and it was _perfect_ , and kissed him again, lightly. "Do you taste good everywhere?" he asked mildly.

Derek was thrown, not having expected that question. In fairness, he wasn't really prepared for any questions right now - or conversation in general - because Stiles's hands were clutching and petting at his sides, up and down, warm and firm, pressing down his back. Carefully he said, brain stalled, "I wouldn't know the answer to that." 

"Oh." Stiles remarked, hands dipping under his shirt. "Well, then. Let's find out." and he was raising the hem, which Derek was totally fine with, until he remembered their situation. He grabbed the boy's hands to still them.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Derek said.

Stiles pulled his hands clear back, almost looking guilty. "You're right. This is probably too fast. I mean, I'm - Fine. I don't want to push and I - Shit. I'm sorry." He looked away, around, anywhere but at Derek. "Oh my God, I can't believe I said _that_." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah. I never thought I'd hear you say something like - _That_." Derek admitted. 

"God, shut up." Stiles said, rolling his eyes and stifling a grin. "You were totally into it." 

"Yeah." Derek nodded, and it was so completely genuine that Stiles had to duck his head and clear his throat.

"Right. Well. I'll go now." he said, lingering a second longer, not looking or touching. Derek was about to raise a hand to fix a stray hair, when Stiles nodded once to himself, eyes sheepishly darting up to Derek's face, before slinking to his phone and keys. He pocketed both quickly and, without another word, left Derek alone in his apartment. 

Derek did his dishes and tried not to dwell.

* * *

Derek kept smoking, privately, quietly, thinking about something else on his lips and in his hands. He figured he could call Stiles, invite him over or out - but he didn't know to what. He was quickly realizing - having finally accepted that Stiles actually liked him in, at least, a physical sense - how far away from boyfriend material he was. He didn't have many hobbies, he wasn't a good conversationalist, and he was absolutely certain that Stiles wouldn't want him to interact with his dad, who had _arrested_ him, who probably didn't _like_ , if not _hated_ , him. 

And, exhaling smoke, bringing the heel of his hand to his forehead, he reminded himself that this was probably just a physical thing for the boy, because he was a teenager, and that Derek would let him do anything, have _anything_ , if pressed against him like that last night. 

So maybe that was why he didn't call, because knowing just how Stiles wanted him was bound to make him desperately sad - even more so then he was as he sat alone, smoking on his bed, tapping ash into a plastic bowl.

There was a knock on his door and he swore, loudly, stubbing out the bud and putting the bowl aside. He padded over to the door and knew who it was before opening it. 

Stiles looked uncomfortable and young and awkward, standing in his doorway with a small smile and something gift-wrapped in his hands. 

Derek raised his eyebrows and vaguely nodded at Stiles's hands. "That an ashtray?"

Stiles looked down, astounded that his wrap-job hadn't concealed the contents of the gift. "It's supposed to be a surprise." he bitched, looking back up. He pushed his way in without being invited a forced the ashtray into Derek's hands. "You'll have to pretend to be excited when you open it." He stayed a few paces away as Derek shut the door and considered the gift.

"You... Didn't have to." he managed out. He didn't look up to see Stiles smile, but could hear it when he spoke. 

"Please. I want to encourage your bad habit - Is it even bad for you? Scott said he didn't think so when I asked - so it's mostly selfish. The gift, I mean. And I want you to have nice things - or, uh, _nicer_ things. Not to say your stuff's shit or anything." and he cut himself of abruptly. "Don't listen to me right now," he rambled on, "I'm just nervous."

Derek unwrapped the paper carefully and looked at the ashtray. It was painted in dark colors, with a coarse, light brown bottom, and a wolf howling in its center. 

"'Cause you're a werewolf." Stiles offered, after a moment of Derek silently staring at it.

"Yeah." Derek murmured, and then didn't say anything else, eyes glued to the little, cheesy image, fingers gliding over its smooth sides. 

"Wow." Stiles said, smile now forced into his voice, sounding fake-light and actually upset - Derek knew because he'd studied this - "I didn't think you'd hate it _this_ much."

Derek looked up sharply. "I - "

"You don't have to like it, Derek." Stiles rolled his eyes, cheeks pinking from embarrassment, rubbing his upper arm and then holding a hand out. "I can take it back."

"No," Derek said, grip tightening on the ashtray. 

"No, Derek. Don't keep something you hate." Stiles said, hand more insistent now. "Just give it back."

"No." Derek growled, holding it closer to himself, away from the boy. "I - Like it. You didn't have to and I - Like it."

Stiles stopped and folded his arms in front of him. "Well, good." and they stood awkwardly for a few moments. "Can I... Can I watch you use it?" 

Derek raised his eyebrows.

"Aw, come on." Stiles groaned. "I bought it for you."

"Yes." Derek nodded. "As a gift. Making it _mine_ now. I'm not obligated to use anything that's _mine_ to make you happy."

And Stiles smirked and slinked forward a step. "I can think of a few things of your's that you could use to make us _both_ happy." His hand came to pull the ashtray out of Derek's grip and set it aside.

" _Stiles_." Derek said, and he didn't know if he was warning or sighing or what, but it stopped Stiles regardless.

"Right." Stiles nodded and took a step back. "That's fine."

"No," Derek frowned, wanting him closer. He reached out and, clasping his hand, tugged him flush against his chest.

"Oh." Stiles said, sounding a little overwhelmed. "I'm, uh - _oh_." and he trailed off, his eyes shutting as Derek, one hand up to splay over his neck, leaned in to kiss him softly.

He pulled back and Stiles murmured, a little dazed, "Mmm, yeah." and blinking into focus, he added, "We can just kiss if you just want to - Kiss. Yeah." and Derek did kiss him again, shallowly, reveling in the way Stiles's arms slid around his waist and how, physically, their bodies fit together well. There weren't many things that Derek could remember feeling this right. 

Stiles hand slid down his back, groping his ass, and Derek froze. Stiles pulled back immediately. "Sorry."

"No, it's..."

"Look, unless you really want to do this..." Stiles said, slowly, watching him intently to gauge his reaction. He must have seen hesitancy on the man's face. "Okay."

"You don't have to go." Derek said, quickly, and Stiles smiled. 

"I wasn't planning on it."

"We could go out." Derek suggested weakly.

"Nah." and he turned, heading towards the kitchen. "I'm gonna make some coffee. Go put on a movie." He looked back for a moment. "You like movies, right?"

Derek kind of shrug-nodded, which seemed to suffice, because Stiles was turning back and disappearing, leaving him to stand, gazing after him. After a moment, he followed him in.

"I know you have a TV." Stiles said without having to look. "You hide it in your bedroom. I wasn't snooping - I just saw it."

Derek didn't respond for a moment, because Stiles was going through his cupboards, sifting through his things with such familiarity that Derek was overcome with emotion he wasn't sure he could bear to name. He didn't even mind that Stiles was acting like Derek's home was his home - which was a sensation he didn't want to be so absent. Without being able to snark at Stiles for being so presumptuous, he didn't know how to interact with him.

He'd forgotten what he'd come in to say.

Stiles was carefully scoping out grounds when he finally shot a glance back at him. "Do you want a cup?"

"I, uh..." Derek grumbled, trying to get himself back on track. "I don't have any movies."

Stiles nearly spun on his heel, face slack with amazement. "You don't have _any?_ You own none? _How?_ What do you even do with your TV?"

"I watch the news."

"Oh. Well, then." Stiles shrugged. "We can do that. You want a cup?"

He shook his head but watched the boy silently, taking in the careful, focused way he used Derek's things. He pressed the on button and took Derek's hands and led him to his own bedroom. Flicking off the lights, he grabbed the remote control and flopped down onto the bed. 

Derek sat gingerly at his side as he turned on the news. He didn’t know quite was to do with himself. Stiles was there, like it was the most natural thing. Like, Derek’s bed was a place he belonged. He was meant to be there, stomach down, clicking through TV channels. Derek was simultaneously struck by the realizations that his bed was a terrible place to be if they were trying to not have sex and how totally boring the news was in comparison.

"I just guessed BBC." Stiles said after a second. "I don't know what you like - there are, like, fifty news channels on here. Actually, we could probably find a movie if we wanted - but, uhm, this is fine and - " He cut himself off because Derek was shifting over, arms bracketing the boy's hips. He shifted with the man, turning onto this back as Derek pulled himself over him. "Oh," he managed out, breathless. "You, uh... Really like the BBC, huh?'

"Yeah." Derek mumbled, a hand petting down his side, his hip, hitching at his thigh to spread his legs apart, letting Derek slot into them better. 

"Oh, I'm, uh..." Derek leaned down to nuzzle just under his jaw. "I'm getting kind of mixed messages here and - _oh_." Stiles head feel back and his eyes fell shut as Derek rocked forward, grinding down to show the boy how hard he was getting. "Okay, that's not very, uh, mixed. That's very clear. So clear. And, oh, okay, yeah, there." He finally quieted - or at least he stopped talking - as Derek sucked over his pulse.

"You know," Stiles started again, sounding shaky, as Derek sat back to pull off his own shirt and toss it off the bed. "If I had known how you got when the news was on, I'd have had you over to watch, _fuck_ ," and Derek was pulling up the hem of the boy's shirt, not doffing it but mouthing at the exposed skin. "Walter Cronkite or what-the-fuck-ever _ages_ ago."

Derek looked at him. "That's a very dated reference." 

"What-the-fuck-ever, jerk." Stiles repeated, sitting up to wiggle out of his t-shirt and toss it off the bed next to Derek's. "He's literally the _only_ newscaster I know by name." 

"How?" Derek scrunched up his brow and Stiles's hand came up to try and smooth it away.

"Dunno. Thinking about other things." and he gave Derek a meaningful look.

"And Walter Cronkite is who you remember?" Derek asked, really sitting back, catching his hand, keeping his judgmental expression in place.

" _Ugh_ , wow. The eyebrow thing shouldn't be a turn-on. Gotta be some kind of bullshit conditioned response. Stop it. It's weirding me out." 

" _It's_ weirding _you_ out?" Derek asked, amusement filling his voice as he tried to keep the same face. Stiles wiggled on his back and reached up, grinning.

"You're a butt. Come here."

Stiles guided him in to be kissed again, fingers rubbing just behind Derek's ears - which felt better than Derek was pretty sure it should, but he didn't really want to think about what that meant too deeply. "You have lube." Stiles said.

"Uhm..." Derek quickly tried to remember if he'd used it all.

"Wasn't a question. You have lube." and Stiles was squirming out from under him, crawling over to his bedside drawer. Derek started after him dumbly and, turning to face him, retrieved bottle in hand, Stiles seemed to realize his mistake. "Oh, right. So, I might have snooped a little bit. Once or twice or seven times - whatever - doesn't matter."

" _Stiles_." he growled.

"Like you haven't gone through my things." Stiles rolled his eyes. Which, yeah, that was true. "Also, say my name like that again." he tossed the bottle next to Derek and rose up to his knees, hands at his jeans' button and zip, undoing them comfortably. "I like it when you get all macho-gruff on me." 

"Stiles..." Derek said, voice catching in his throat, eyes locked on Stiles's hands and his quickly lowering jeans.

"Oh, I like that too." Stiles grinned, sitting back to kick his pants of the rest of the way. "I might like it more."

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Derek clarified. 

And the smile Stiles gave him was beyond radiant, beyond affectionate. "Yeah." he murmured. "Are you? Because we could wait if you wanted." 

"No." Derek shook his head, firmly. "I want to do this."

"With me?" Stiles furthered, smile faltering a little.

"Yeah." Derek breathed.

"'Kay." Stiles nodded, back to beaming. "You wanna prep me or should I start?"

Derek balked. His glanced at the lube, and the tented front of Stiles's underwear, and his long fingers. "Uh..."

"I'll start." Stiles said, and just like that, he was taking off his boxer-briefs, throwing them aside, grabbing the lubricant to slick his fingers. And, he looked nervous, eyes darting up to Derek's face periodically - looking for what, Derek wasn't sure, because Stiles was too gorgeous and young and smooth, his motions surprisingly fluid - or not surprisingly, because Derek had observed him through a whole medley of motions and knew how graceful he could be when he wasn't thinking about it. He was leaning back and opening his legs and bringing his hands down, circling a finger over his hole, like it wasn't anything at all. 

"You do this a lot?" Derek asked before thinking it through. To clarify, he added, "Uhm... _finger_... your - "

"Sometimes." Stiles murmured, and wet his mouth with a little brush of his tongue and pushed in. "Do you?" he asked back, his voice soft and swallowed. 

"Sometimes." Derek allowed.

Stiles nodded and worked in another finger, eyes flicking up to Derek's transfixed face often, seeming pleased with his reaction.

It wasn't until Stiles was nudging in his third finger, biting his lip but unable to keep himself from whining, soft, in his throat, that Derek finally crawled up the bed to nestle between the boy's naked thighs, lubing up his own fingers. Stiles eyes were fluttering when Derek, head bowed a little, ran a finger against Stiles's, against his rim. Stiles pulled his own hand away and guided Derek's slicked fingers in, nudging in one digit alongside the man's and then drawing back to let him try alone. 

Derek, nervous, stilled for a moment, but, as Stiles groaned and pushed his hips into the touch, bringing Derek's free hand to his cock, Derek started to press in another finger.

"That's good." Stiles hummed, eyes shutting, one hand coming to rake through Derek's hair to keep him close. "Like that." 

Stiles sucked him in, and he was even more vocal when Derek was the one stretching and scissoring him open. Derek leaned in, breathing in the boy's neck, trying to stifle a moan against his skin. Stiles sighed, and then jerked as Derek rubbed over something inside of him.

"Again." he demanded, voice choked and desperate. Derek did as told, getting reward with Stiles's soft, swearing praise, both hands now in his hair, cradling his face, mouth close enough to kiss, until they were.

"Pants, Derek." Stiles groaned out. "Why are you still wearing pants?"

"Don't know." Derek admitted.

"Lame." Stiles said, gently tugging him back by his hair. "Take them off." and Derek nearly whined because he'd have to leave the warmth of Stiles's body to do that - and the charge of his hands - but Stiles huffed, " _Now_." and he was up.

It was quick work and, naked, he was on Stiles again, mouthing at his neck with renewed heat, fucking his fingers into him harder, letting Stiles fuck his fist.

"Oh, _Jesus_ , I'm gonna come." Stiles groaned, and Derek was gently nipping his earlobe, tugging at it with his teeth and laving with his tongue, and that was it. He shot hard, coating Derek's hand, and Derek quickly used that hand to jerk himself off, coming in no time at all, mixing his release with Stiles's.

"Can you go again?" Stiles was panting, already grasping Derek's wrist to hold his dirty, come-coated hand up and lick their combined ejaculate off thoughtfully. 

Derek groaned, "Yeah," because that was too much, more than he thought he could handle - until Stiles pushed him onto his back and got his mouth on the man's soft cock, cleaning it up. Sure enough, his cock twitched, making an attempt to harden again. "God, fuck, you can't just - "

Stiles pulled back a little. "I think I like you like this." he hummed, kissing and nipping away from his cock. His eyes darted up to Derek's flushed face, hands coming to hold his hips as he nibbled a little harder at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh and then kissed a wet, soothing apology. "All breathless and sweet."

Derek would have frowned if he felt steadier. As it was, his thighs were shaking and his whole body felt-over hot. "Sweet?" he questioned, meaning to do more with his eyebrows and failing.

"Yeah." Stiles smiled and laved up the side of his cock again. "And, in regards to our earlier conversation, you _do_ taste good everywhere." Derek groaned and pushed his hips up a little, Stiles looking more than pleased with the behavior. 

Stiles sat up a little. "Can I ride you?" he asked, grabbed the tossed aside bottle of lube to coat his palm. Derek nodded adamantly as Stiles wrapped his hand around his cock. Stiles hummed and watched intently as Derek's mouth fell open, his head falling back a little.

"Are you sure you want to?" Derek managed out, once his brain caught up.

"Hmm, let me think..." Stiles said slowly, gripping tighy and twisting his wrist in a way that had Derek close to crying out. "Am I sure I want to ride you?"

"What if it's too much?" Derek asked. "I don't want to hurt you."

"And you won't." Stiles said, taking his hand and rearranging the man so he could clamber onto his lap, arms draping over his shoulders. "You're going to be good for me, right?" Derek nodded, bucking a little at the thought. "Hold yourself."

Derek's hand did come down to steady himself, his other fingers at Stiles's hip, gripping tight as Stiles, bracing one hand on the man's shoulder and the other behind him, started to sit. He nudged just the head in and his breath shuttered, looking down between them, his shoulders tense.

"We don't have - " Derek started to shake his head, but Stiles caught his mouth and sank down a little further, and then a little more, and finally, breath gasping out, all the way down. "Are you okay?"

"Uhm..." Stiles stalled, the noise high and strained and wrung out, both hands now at Derek's shoulders, digging in. He didn't seem like he was going to continue the thought just yet. 

"If it's too much - "

"You're just so _big_." he managed out, blushing all the way down his cheeks and neck, panting, shifting a little to try and get more comfortable; Derek hissing at the tight, sucking friction. He gripped the boy's hips a little tighter and tucked his face into Stiles's neck, trying to calm himself down, an arm curled around Stiles's back, pulling him closer.

"Derek, okay. I'm gonna - " Stiles said, and rocked his hips a little, just to try. He pulled up and made some soft, wavery sound, which had Derek shushing him and wrapping his other arm around him, thrusting back in.

"Oh, yeah, okay, yeah." Stiles babbled, voice close to hysterical. He gasped off whatever he was going to say, hands scrambling down Derek's back, into his hair, as Derek pushed in again and again. It was all quick, shallow thrusts, harder each time, fucking him wrecked and strained and breathless. 

Derek kept him near, hiding blue eyes by keeping them shut and claws by keeping them out of sight. He didn't mouth at his neck, worried he'd bite too hard. He just kept rocking small hiccuped noises out of the boy, holding him tenderly.

"Wanna kiss you." Stiles slurred. Derek hit into him a little harder to maybe distract him but just made him sob out, " _Please_." too desperate to deny in good conscience. Still, Derek didn't pull back until Stiles had a hand on his neck guiding him back and one firmly in his hair.

Stiles didn't say anything as Derek met his gaze or opened his mouth. He just leaned in to kiss him and suck his tongue and feed his cries into the man's mouth. And, quite suddenly, Stiles was being flipped onto his back, Derek still just as close as before, still kissing him, but fucking in harder, deeper, one hand at the boy's thigh to pull it spread. Stiles had to break away, swearing and sobbing, eyes screwed shut as Derek pounded into him.

Derek could feel Stiles hard against his stomach and knew he should slow down to get him off before coming, but when he started to, Stiles whined and pulled him closer, rolling his hips back frantically. And, not needing any other encouragement, Derek slammed in a handful more of times, coming hot in the boy, staying inside for a moment too long. 

To make it up to him, Derek eased the boy onto his trembling knees, holding his hips steady and up as Stiles slumped forward, boneless, panting, about to ask _what?_ Before he could, Derek caught a trickle of his own come from the boy's hole with his tongue and lapped it up, laving over his rim and then sliding inside to suck up more seed.

"Jesus, _fuck_ , dude, warn a guy." Stiles bitched, although he didn't sound all that displeased.

Derek pulled back regardless. "Want me to stop?"

"Fuck, no," Stiles said, pressing his hips back insistently, his own hand coming down to pump his leaking cock. "Back to work."

And so Derek lowered his head again, running his tongue in and out of the boy's swollen, pink hole, eating out as much as he could, listening to Stiles's breath harsh as he stroked himself to the edge.

He didn't take too long and, as Derek was sucking at his rim, Stiles was groaning and slumping forward, exhausted. 

As he recovered, Derek sat behind him and asked an awkward, "You want a shower?"

"Never." Stiles groaned into the bedspread. "I'm never leaving your bed." One hand came up to wave him away. "Go get a towel." Which Derek did, and, when he came back, Stiles was lying on his back, looking tired and content, staring at the bowl-cum-ashtray and pack of cigarettes next to the bed.

“You wanna smoke one?” he asked, in that casual way that Derek was learning to mean that he wanted something. “I hear people like to after - And secondhand smoke isn't even - “

“No.” Derek said, and Stiles didn’t say anything else about it, letting him wipe down his thighs and over his hand. He didn't let him do much more other than turn off the still-playing TV after that, because Stiles was catching his arm and pulling him onto the bed next to him, immediately cuddling into his warmth.

"We can do this, right?" Stiles checked, eyes opening to look at him blearily.

"Yeah." Derek gruffed. "We can if you want."

"Do you?"

And the word was caught in his throat, because there was nothing he wanted more. "Yeah."

Stiles hummed and let his eyes drift shut, tucking himself under Derek's arm, which was still a little tense. Eyes still shut, he tried to pet tension out, shushing him senselessly. "Stop it. What's wrong?"

Derek didn't know exactly where to start, so he just asked, "You weren't bothered by the wolf thing?"

Yawning, "I like the wolf thing." 

"Oh."

Stiles peeked up at him, smiling a little. "If anything, wanting to get freaky just because the news in on is weirder."

"It wasn't - " Derek furrowed his brow, not sure how to phrase it. "I didn't want to just because the news was on." 

"Sure, weirdo." Stiles murmured.

"It's weird that you wanted to have sex with me because I smell like your mom." Derek told him, and realized his mistake a second too late because Stiles froze.

"Shut up." he grumbled, pulling away to lie on his other side, facing away from the man.

"I'm sorry." he rushed out. "I didn't - "

"That's not why I wanted to have sex with you." Stiles said, and Derek felt himself calm at the words because he didn't sound mad and wasn't giving off that scent of sorrow Derek knew so well. He turned on his side as well to run a hand tentatively down the boy's shoulder and then arm. When Stiles let him grasp his hand, Derek scooted up behind him a bit, and Stiles folded their entwined arms in front of him, shifting back to catch more of his warmth. 

"Oh, my coffee's probably done." he mumbled, half-asleep.

"You still want it?" Derek asked, ready to get up and fetch it for him. Stiles just shook his head and fell silent.

Derek breathed in the back of his neck and his hair, and started to smile, but only because Stiles couldn't see him and his breath was evening out as he fell asleep.

Stiles was starting to smell like family too.

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, I hope all y'all liked it. Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Shameless tumblr plug: [My Blog](http://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com/)


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